


Heart to Holo

by mischiefiswritten



Category: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Budding Romance, F/M, Missing Scenes, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, character study-ish?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2019-10-23 19:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17689268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischiefiswritten/pseuds/mischiefiswritten
Summary: During their time apart on Dxun, Atton and the Exile, Vela, share a series of conversations via commlink. Talking of matters both serious and not over games of pazaak, saber maintenance, or simply the stillness and quiet of each other's company, the two begin to consider separately what these moments - and all the ones that came before - mean, and most importantly, what the future may hold for them.Is it simply friendship? The Force bond between them? Or something much, much more?





	1. Transmission 1: Attons, Young and Old

“You know, it really disturbs young Atton that you’re getting along with the Mandalorians so well.” Atton’s holo image wavered slightly, evidence of either the incomplete repairs to the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s systems or the apparently incessant Dxun rain interfering with the signal.

Vela tipped her head to the side, chin propped on stacked fists. She was stretched out on her stomach in the bunker Mandalore had afforded them in the camp. The cot she was lying on was no luxury, but few people had the opportunity to receive accommodations from Mandalorians on such good terms. In that regard, she figured she should feel honored.

“Young Atton?” she said. “So that means I’m speaking to… who, old Atton?”

He made a pained noise and leaned back from the holo, clutching at his chest. “You wound me!”

She rolled her eyes but grinned at his antics anyway. More of the _Hawk_ ’s cockpit came into view as he pressed backward into the pilot’s seat – she wanted to get back to the ship and the rest of the crew. It was strange to be so separated for so long.

“I demand recompense – tell me how youthful and handsome I am.” He’d started the calls to keep her up to date on the repairs that had him sequestered to the _Hawk_ and to check what progress she’d made without him. And even when they ran out of things to report, they never ran out of things to talk about.

“I do know what you mean, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a wink.

“No,” she laughed, “About the Mandalorians. I’m afraid young Vela would agree with young Atton. The Mandalorian War may be over, but the scars are permanent.” She’d been just as affected as anyone else by the brutality and slaughter the people of the Republic had suffered at the hands of the Mandalorians, Jedi code or no. When she and Atton had finally discussed his past, in the grassy peace of Dantooine where the stillness made a perfect backdrop for their bitter and pained words, she’d felt the plight of soldiers like him as vividly as before. She’d remembered exactly what had brought her to disregard the Council and join Revan.

The feelings responsible for her ever having held the title of General. And exile.

Atton’s demeanor shifted to a solemnity that did indeed make him look older. “Yeah, that’s for sure. I guess it’s a good thing we’re not quite the same as we were then.”

“I guess it is.” Her eyes lost focus as she was drawn years into the past to the decision that changed everything… and to the first time she’d set foot on Dxun, when it was her battlefield. She’d all but forgotten where she was when Atton spoke up again, voice now filled with the usual devil-may-care levity.

“You still haven’t told me how handsome I am, V. Don’t think you can distract me.”

Everything snapped into focus again. She would probably never find the words to tell him about the clarifying effect he had on her, even by the silliest means. And she’d never be able to thank him enough for all that he was.

So she simply made a show of weighing his statement, saying, “Honesty may not be explicitly mentioned in the Jedi Code, but it’s certainly an important virtue for one. I have to be sure it’s actually true before I say that.”

She let her eyes rove over his slightly grainy image, pretending to carefully appraise his features even though she knew them well. The tousled hair. The bottomless browns of his eyes. The strength in the cut of his jaw. The deceptively casual set of his shoulders. Force, when had she first come to know them so well? She’d found some time ago, since setting out into the Dxun jungle without him, that by just closing her eyes she could conjure a clear and detailed image of Atton in her mind. Vela could see him so vividly that it was nearly like reaching through the Force for him, such was the living energy the imagined Atton held. The wear on his jacket. His holstered blasters – and now his sabers.

Even the cards in his pazaak side deck.

When this realization struck her, the first explanation had been that it was a side effect of the mental shielding tactic he’d taught her as they were flying through hyperspace one day. _You’ll be right here with me_ , his words echoed still in her memory, _playing pazaak where they can’t reach you._

A little jolt ran along her senses as she remembered it, and she wondered quickly if it was Atton, if he’d heard her somehow and his reaction had slipped away from him down the bond between them.

But no, it wasn’t the Force at all. Vela realized reaction was entirely her own. Something to do with the warmth and unexpected gentleness with which he’d said those words to her and the pleasant feeling she got from observing him this way, unguarded and teasing.

“Well?” he said, oblivious to the thoughts she entertained while they spoke, “Are you going to share your evaluation? You may as well just admit it; I know it’s why you keep me around.”

Not his paradoxical loyalty. Or his incredible resolve. Or the light she saw so clearly in his soul.

“I keep you around for a decent game of pazaak.”

He made a noncommittal noise, and for a moment there was silence. Atton stared out of the holo at her, and Vela gazed back. Neither gave voice to whatever they were thinking. Neither looked away from the depth of meaning she had hidden well behind that flat, joking statement, yet they both new was there. And despite not yet having been able to reach out through the Force to touch her thoughts, he seemed to sense the place her words had bled from. An untouched place they had not dared walk yet, for fear of what that journey may entail. “You have your deck on you?”

As a man who often found himself in need of an escape route, he was more than apt at steering their conversations through them.

“Always.”


	2. Transmission 2: Reflection Manipulator Maintenance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who left feedback on the previous chapter! And future comments are of course always encouraged and appreciated.

Atton watched as seconds ticked by on a monitor in the _Hawk_ ’s cockpit, folding into minutes which marched on and on like ever-disciplined soldiers. He was reclined as much as was possible in the pilot’s seat, one boot propped up on the console separating it from the copilot’s without much to do at all. Attending to the ship’s ” _extensive repairs_ ” was turning out to be a real drag.

The accommodations were a step up from the cell on Peragus, that was for sure, but the two situations shared a mind numbing quality that had him aching to hike out into the beast-infested jungles of Dxun just for a change of pace.

His mind wandered as it so often did to the exile who was doing just that. He allowed his mental image to linger a bit on the rain-soaked robes, the droplets of water charting slick paths over her skin, across her lips. A lazy and self-deprecating chuckle snuck past his own lips as he caught himself.

That was a dangerous path, now more than ever. He told himself it was because of this new Jedi thing – the Code, or whatever.

Not that it was a lie even he could convince himself to believe.

Not when he was often reminded of the shame he couldn’t stamp down at the thought of what she must have seen in his mental wall, whether by accident or by design. Knowing what he used to fortify that layer of defense was one thing, but there was no shaking the fear that she may have witnessed it firsthand, so to speak. For a while now he’d been training – practicing not just shielding his mind, but opening it to Vela. Reaching out for her presence in the Force.

Trying, anyway.

She was always something Atton could see out of the corner of his mind’s eye, radiant with a warmth he could never feel beyond the slightest whisper against his senses. He would chase relentlessly after the light he knew was hers, but it was like trying to navigate in a dream. Every time he reached for it, it slipped away from his grasp.

It was pretty stupid, considering the undeniable strength of the Force bond between them. They felt so resolutely tethered without any effort he’d assumed accessing it on purpose would be simple, like –

_Vwoo-eep!_

– Like using a commlink, he finished the thought. _Vwoo-eep!_ It chirped again at him, blinking Vela’s signature.

“Hey, V. Been waiting on your call.” And waiting, and waiting. With nothing else to do but carry a spanner around and pretend there were things desperately needing its attention. “Tell me you’ve got something interesting to report.”

“Depends. Do you find the battle circle interesting?” There was a flush on her cheeks just visible through the holo and a breathless little grin on her lips. Sweat hung along her hairline, making it damp. She must have come straight from a duel, he realized.

“Interesting is one word for it. Why?” he asked, letting his voice take on a sly tone that left no question he already knew why she was bringing it up. “Did you see a good fight today or something?”

“The best. This newcomer in the circle is really something – the only one left to face her is the champion. Not for long, mind you, but technically that’s how he’s still known.”

Atton whistled appreciatively. “Smugness is one hell of a look on you.”

He listened with an easy grin while she recounted her duel to him, making note of the Mandalorians’ skill and their growing respect for her. She had earned every shred of it, for Mandalorians did not hand out honor for anything but worthy deeds. Atton had no great love for the Mandalorians as a people, but if he had ever met anyone worthy, it was her. Vela was more than a warrior, more than a Jedi, more than an exile. She was bigger than words – she defied them. How was he supposed to ever find the right way to describe her?

Maybe it was best if he didn’t describe her. The words he reached for when he tried were too dangerous, striking too near that thing they could only dance around in conversation. The thing that suffused him in a pleasant, almost _too_ comfortable warmth while they spoke like this.

They talked until the jungle outside was awash in darkness and cool, damp night air. Vela commented on the noises she could hear outside the camp’s perimeter, and he told her about some of the creatures he’d seen that could be making them. Atton made up some words for fictitious things he’d been working on around the ship, and she nodded along attentively, fully trusting him to take care of the nanowave frequencies in the _Hawk_ ’s axionic reflection manipulator.

Eventually there was a lull, and Atton took the time to pick at a thread on his sleeve. He didn’t know what else to say to keep her on the line. A crash sounded from the exile’s side of the comm, making her twist away for a moment before shrugging and explaining it was just a friendly brawl between Mandalorians. “They’re a rowdy bunch,” she told him unnecessarily.

“Their soon-to-be champion could probably show them how it’s done. Why are you wasting your time talking to me?” He laughed, but it was a real question.

“I like hearing your voice,” Vela said, and the affection of her words and the ease with which she said them struck him like a physical force. Her lips parted in a surprised little gasp that wasn’t audible through the holo. “Just – ah – it’s just good. Hearing your voice when I’m out here by myself, it’s good.”

“You’re not by yourself,” he reminded her. Gentleness made his voice sound almost like someone else’s.

“Right! Right, but you know what I mean.”

Atton hoped he did. He hoped, without any right or reason, that what she’d meant was “ _without you_.”


	3. Transmission 3: Lament for Lightsaber Maintenance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's read, given kudos, and especially left a comment. I know my updates are super irregular, but it means the world to me!

“This is by far the _worst_ part of being a Jedi.”

“Really?” Vela, sitting cross-legged on the bunker floor, arched an eyebrow at Atton without looking up at his holo. “Not the meditation, or the Code, or the forbidden-to-love thing?”

“Ah, well, I’ll just have to resign myself to a fate of breaking hearts on every planet we visit.” He paused so dramatically, Vela couldn’t keep her eyes on her task. He was mirroring her posture on the floor of the _Hawk_ , though the room was uncharacteristically quiet, void of Bao-Dur’s tinkering and the gentle whir of his remote. He must have been working elsewhere in the ship. Maybe, she thought, Bao had found something else to do on purpose.

Now that he was satisfied he had her complete attention, Atton let a lazy and lopsided grin unfurl across his lips. “But that’s no different than before.”

He finished with a wink so over-the-top, Vela was laughing before she had time to notice that she’d seen the line coming.

He shared in her laughter, watching after it subsided for just a second too long to maintain their careful neutrality of detachment, that commitment to staying within their bounds. Quickly, though, he seemed to remember himself and looked back down at his lap. He worked intently with the saber rested there until he fumbled the tiny components and tossed the hilt down with a curse. The workbench rang with a metallic _clunk_ as Atton’s back connected with it, but he just huffed.

Vela snickered under her breath. “Give it another try,” she said, trying earnestly to sound encouraging instead of amused.

“No.” His voice was muffled by his hands as he scrubbed them across his face. “I quit. I’m hanging up my robes.”

She sighed, but the idea, really crossing her mind for the first time, sent a sharp bolt of emotion down the back of her neck. Would he really… leave the Order one day? When this was finished? That thought stung her more than the idea of him leaving _her_. Parting ways with the crew seemed inevitable in the end, one way or another. Even this, whatever it was, so tender, unnamed and untouched between them, would end in goodbye. She wanted to know that when they said farewell, he would still be cared for somehow, even if it was only by the Force. That he would be safe on this newer, lighter path that led him gradually out from under the shadows of his past.

That he would still be connected in some small way… to her.

It was a truth that made her ache, straight down to her fingertips. She was surprised, and altogether too unsurprised, at the power of the urge to cling to his presence in her life. He had arrived suddenly and without expectation, but she had not questioned his being there in so long.

“Do we _have_ to do this, V?” he groused.

“Oh, no. Not if you’re alright with incinerating yourself and half my ship.” She leveled a stern gaze at him, meeting his eyes through the cracks between his fingers which were still spread over his face. “Which I do not recommend.”

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine,” he said. “You’re the boss, sweetheart. But do we have to do this _ourselves_?”

She pretended the warmth growing in her chest and cheeks had nothing to do his statement, or the naked fondness in his voice. Now she was certain Bao-Dur was nowhere to be found. “Unfortunately, all the lightsaber maintenance shops closed about the time all the Jedi disappeared and a huge bounty was placed on them.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re teasing me, now.”

His hands had fallen from his face and come to rest on his knees, leaving his hair endearingly askew. He was wearing his Jedi robes, forgoing the familiar leather jacket today, but he still wore those fingerless gloves.

“Me? Impossible,” she answered with a smile. “Here – watch carefully, and let me guide you.” Closing her eyes, she let go of her surroundings and sunk into the currents of the Force, letting it carry her until the bunker faded away. It was replaced by the manifestations of everyone in the camp around her, their thoughts brushing up against her with the barest whispers. Mandalorians, her own companions, even animals in the jungle beyond were laid out before her, but Vela didn’t care about them right now. She pushed beyond them in search of the _Hawk_ and the impossible feeling of home it possessed. In search of its pilot.

Her mind drifted back to his hands, and she let it. The hands that had clasped her shoulders on Peragus when she was too overwhelmed by the pain transmitted through her bond with Kreia to carry on. The hands that had carried antidote packs to her when she was headed for the trap laying in wait at the Jek Jek Tarr. The hands that had rubbed the back of his neck, almost shy or flustered, when she had expressed admiration for his Echani training back on Telos. That was the day she’d given him an opportunity to leave, guilt-free, if he’d wanted to.

She met his presence in the Force, easing up against the walls that protected him with soft insistence.

_Let me in_ …

And he did. And then she was _there_ , like she was sitting in the very room with him feeling his breath stir the air and guiding the fine movements of his fingers while making the same with her own. He was watching her through the holo still, and he opened himself to her influence, just a gentle nudge to help replace crystals and components in the saber.

That was the day he’d chosen to stay. Chosen _her_.

They worked in relative peace, warmed for Vela’s part by the memory, only intruded upon when they came to the very last adjustment. She smiled without a single thought for neutrality as Atton shouted at T3-M4, who had rolled into the room outside of her view, throwing a spare part and accusing the droid of laughing at him – which, in all fairness, he was. Then Atton demanded to know why she couldn’t have taken T3 with her at least to provide him some peace, and she mocked grave seriousness at the prospect of the little astromech in the sodden jungles, slogging through the elements at his master’s side.

Yes, all those weeks ago, Atton had chosen this. “ _Just until things start going better for you_ ,” he’d said. And for as long as she could, Vela would keep choosing this too.


End file.
